


at midnight all the agents

by NotRyanRoss



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Mindless Self Indulgence, Music RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood Drinking, Drug Use, M/M, Non-binary character, Supernatural Elements, Temporary Character Death, Trans Character, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRyanRoss/pseuds/NotRyanRoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm so, so sorry, I didn't meant to kill you," the black-haired man said in a distressed voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_A/N: chapters will be longer after this_

 

"Iero," the fat man gurgled, sweat rolling across his face grossly as one of his minions tighted their grip on Frank's throat. Frank scrabbled, dragged his nails against the concrete behind him desperately, felt one snap under the pressure. There was a sharp pain that felt much safer than his air being cut off and Frank felt the blood smear the wall behind him, staining. It just might be the only evidence he ever existed after this. Dammit, he couldn't just keep his bright plans to himself, could he?

"I'm so sorry, sir," Frank croaked out weakly, the words nearly inaudible over the rushing in his ears. "I'll make it up to-"

His head was slammed unceremoniously against the brick wall, and Frank was sure he could feel blood rolling down the back of his neck along with what was smearing on his hands. Shit, that hurt. The fat man snarled and lit a cigar, filling the cramped, dark room with the clogging scent. Frank's vision wobbled, tilting sideways and staying at a ninety degree angle, and he blinked slowly. Shit. He better not have a fucking concussion or something, he couldn't pay for that-

"Tell me, Iero, why shouldn't I kill you now?"

Frank blinked. "Well, people say I am an excellent lover and I can't do that from the grave, and that would be a crime."

A hand slammed into his jaw, made his head slam into the wall again. There was a more solid sound when he connected this time, a more painful noise, and Frank could only hope he was hallucinating the wet squelch. He could barely process what was going on, sucked in air but not any oxygen as he choked, hands coming up to desperately pull at the fingers suffocating him. Fuck. _Fuck_ , what was his death report going to say, what was his mom going to do without him?

"What are you doing?"

The fingers around his neck loosened and Frank coughed wetly, tried not to throw up. He blinked open his eyes blearily and caught the impression of red lips, dark hair and solid thighs. The fat man seemed worried...or even scared, perhaps. Frank would have been intrigued was he not in the middle of a rather unfortunate death.

"He's been stealing, boss," the fat man said.

"Mmhm. What?"

"Five ounces of marijuana."

"You're murdering him for five ounces?"

"We gotta make an example, boss."

A chuckle. "He's cute. But you have a point. What's his name?"

"Iero. Frank. He's one of our better dealers, never been caught by the cops, never lost any cash. Just the weed."

"Impressive."

"Yes, but he's quite...insolent."

"Really. Let him talk."

The hand on Frank's throat loosened and he dragged in a breath, his lungs rattling worryingly. Without the support he fell to the ground bonelessly, bare knees scraping on the floor. There was really no chance his big mouth was going to get him out of this. Why had he been so stupid? Of course they'd noticed the weed was gone. He opened his eyes again when the click of heels stopped abruptly in front of him, got an eyeful of black leather and creamy skin.

"Hello, Frank."

Frank coughed, listed sideways and looked up vaguely. "Hi. Come 'ere often?"

"Aw, sweetie. We can't kill him, he's positively adorable!"

"But-"

"I know we can't leave him unpunished, but I have a plan."

The fat man remained silent this time, even though his rage was palpable and Frank's breathing slowed fractionally. He wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't dying, because his ribs felt brittle and sharp under his chest binder, and his breathing didn't sound right even over the bloodrush in his brain. His feet scrambled to find purchase on the floor, and as he lifted up painfully a hand caught his chin, forced him to look into dark eyes. He tried not to cough in their face.

"I have a job for you, Frank Iero."

"Okay, leave the instructions here and I'll have it done in a jiffy," Frank answered weakly, croaked out a laugh, then fell back into the dark static at the edges of his vision. 

###

Frank came back to consciousness later, when it was just getting dark again. He nearly couldn't open his eyes against the blood matting his hair to his eyelashes, but he managed it and rolled onto his back. Shit. That crunch and shift in his chest couldn't have been good. He managed to move a trembling hand under his torn Misfits t-shirt to undo a few clips on his binder, and sighed. His life really couldn't get any worse than it already was, could it. He glanced around, didn't find anyone nearby, and rolled onto his stomach so he could stand up.

"Fuck," he hissed. Yeah, definitely a broken rib or two.

Frank managed to get up on his knees, laboured breathing loud and panicked in the empty factory. He'd patch himself up later; it wasn't like he could go to a hospital or anything. He'd just have to figure out this shit himself. Ray from two doors down could sew, he'd seen it. Maybe he'd stitch Frank up for free, Ray Toro seemed like a reasonable guy. And yep, he was hacking up blood. If it was a punctured lung he'd be dead, so maybe it was just a scrape or something. Hopefully.

He got to his feet after a solid five minutes and a rustle under his booted foot made him look down. A stack of papers laid there innocently, along with what looked like a lipstick kiss on them. Frank bent down to retrieve them, letting out tiny pained noises, and skimmed his gaze over the first paper. Christ, he'd just wanted some extra cash, why did shit always backfire in his face?

_Frank,_   
_Seen as you've decided to do the right thing, you've been chosen. My business partners and I are starting a new...branch of our establishment, and we'd like for you to be our first salesperson._   
_Your job is to...collect certain people we have listed here and bring them to this factory wing. I promise we will not venture to murder these special clients, and they will be paid, providing they cooperate._   
_If you decide to join us, not only will you be allowed to survive, you will also receive adequate pay. This will be worth your while, Frank Iero. Wouldn't you like to be able to get rid of your...little problem? I'd be happy to help you with that._   
_See you soon! xxx_   
_P.S: be careful with your victim selection_

"Fucking victim selection? They want me to _kidnap_ people?"

Frank scrubbed at his bloodstained chin, rubbed off a few coppery flakes to the floor and coughed. He couldn't _kidnap_ people. What kind of an operation was this, anyway? And how did they know about- ? Frank shuddered at the wave of nausea that rushed through him, leaned his forehead against a wall gently. He'd gotten himself into some crazy shit.

He couldn't kidnap people.

Not even if it saved his life, right?

He stumbled forward a few steps, swayed but managed to remain standing as he ripped the note into shreds and left it on the floor. The profiles went in his jacket pocket, because he should have enough time to warn a few of these people, at least, before he skipped town. He had maybe a few hours (probably not even that) before he was hunted down.

Shit.

It sunk in at that moment that he was going to die. For real. They were going to hunt him down and kill him.

"Frank Iero is a dead man," he said, a hysterical laugh bubbling up his throat.

Then he slammed open the factory door and hobbled as fast as he could.

###

Frank didn't make it very far before he couldn't walk properly.

He turned into a rotten-smelling alleyway and his knees were buckling, and then he was on the floor again. He heard something creak in his broken body and tried to scream, only made a pained whining noise from behind gritted teeth. He wasn't going to make it anywhere like this. Even if he had agreed to help the fat man and his boss he probably wouldn't have survived more than a few days with this kind of damage. What a way to go, though. In an alleyway that smelt like rotten food and piss.

Booted footsteps thumped down the alleyway, paused.

"Fuck," he hissed to himself, crawling to a corner of the alley, behind a dumpster. He probably hadn't been seen, right? He was pretty stealthy, it wasn't like he was leaving a trail of blood everywhere- oh, wait. Fuck. He braced himself against the concrete wall and breathed in, trying to quietly spit out the blood slowly filling his mouth. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The footsteps got closer.

Fuck. He hadn't had time to warn even one of those people. They deserved to know they were being hunted. He was an asshole for dying.

The boots stopped in front of him with a final thump and Frank tried to focus his rapidly dimming vision on the person in them. What would his murderer look like? Something in him wished they were hot, because at least he'd get to die with something nice to look at in his final moments. He caught a hint of dark hair, wide, bright eyes in the darkness and- fucking _fangs_? Yeah, those were fangs. He was officially hallucinating. He'd probably die soon. Didn't stop him from talking to the hallucination. He was fairly sure they were staring at all the blood leaking out of him like he had plenty to spare.

"You wanna taste?"

He held up his blood-soaked fingers and wiggled them up at the still figure. His heart felt like it was struggling, pushing at his ribs like it could jump ship and go somewhere else before he carked it. And then there was this person, who Frank assumed was not part of the organization bent on murdering him. They would've killed him in the first few seconds of seeing him if they were. This person was just...staring at him, probably looking at all the blood soaking him. Even Frank hadn't known he'd had this much blood to spare.

"I'm a delicacy, you should come and get me before the fucking mafia do," he whispered, and then there was a steel grip around his wrist, grinding the bones together. He heard a crack but it didn't matter. He felt something sharp slicing at his neck but it didn't matter, it didn't even hurt because it felt _nice_ , like the new pain was a _comfort_. There was a heavy warmth over his thighs and the fingers laced around his wrist loosened slightly and Frank tipped his head back, looked up at the stars with a smile on his blood-caked lips.

He laughed hysterically and the world went green, then red, then black, and Frank Iero's heart stopped beating.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank woke up again with a loud hacking noise, rolled out of the bed he was in and fell to the floor with a resounding thump. _What a way to start the day_ , he thought absently as he looked up at the painted ceiling. His legs were still twisted up in the soft sheets, but that didn't matter because he was supposed to be _dead_. Dead as a doornail. Deader than a doornail, in fact, he was supposed to be ash on the ground.

He sat up and splayed a hand over his chest, realising with a start that he was in a shirt that smelled like cigarettes and coffee and was way too big for him. His pants seemed to have disappeared somewhere along the line, and the most significant change was that his heart wasn't _beating_. He shifted his hand up a bit, down an inch, to the left, and nope. No heartbeat to be found anywhere. Maybe he was in heaven or something. It was quite odd that heaven had him in an oversized Smiths shirt and nothing else, though.

He untangled himself from the sheets and stood up, gently patting over his chest. Shit, his chest binder was gone. Frank's fingers slipped over the noticeable curve of his breasts.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled, lifting the shirt up to look. Man, he hadn't seen those in _ages_. They were weird.

And that, of course, was when someone walked in.

"Oh," the guy at the door said, hazel eyes wide with trepidation.

Frank dropped his shirt and the hem fell down mid-thigh. The guy at the door went bright red and coughed awkwardly. Luckily for Frank, he didn't really care about his unfortunate flashing and just folded his arms over the shape of his boobs to cover them slightly.

"Um...hi?"

"Hi," Frank said.

The guy looked down at the floor in an embarrassed manner, and Frank wondered if people blushed this much normally. Maybe he was a little shy. Frank didn't really know what he was seeing, apart from a guy with tits and a lip-ring and really badly cut hair. Hell, he might see a particularly ugly lesbian; Frank wasn't entirely careful about passing as male.

"How do you feel?"

Frank shrugged. "Good, I guess. Am I in hell?"

"What? _No_ ," the man answered. "Why would you be in hell?"

"I'm pretty sure I died. Also, my heart's not beating. That's usually an indication of death."

The guy paled.

"What?"

"I am so fucking sorry for killing you. There was so much blood...I couldn't," the black-haired man said in a distressed voice.

Frank tilted his head. "Do you own a drug cartel that doubles as a kidnapping syndicate? Or do you work for said cartel?"

"Er...no?"

"Then you didn't kill me," Frank replied flatly. "Can I have some pants?"

"Yeah, sure. Sorry," the guy said again, shuffling over to a dresser and pulling out a pair of hello kitty sweatpants with red paint on the knees. He handed them over and Frank pulled them up over his waist, fastening them and finding they weren't extroadinarily loose. Wonderful. It wasn't like this man was much bigger than Frank height-wise though, and that was saying something.

"I kind of _did_ kill you, though," the guy added.

Frank remembered a flicker of dark hair, bloodstained chin. Heavy boots and the clogging stink of garbage in his throat. Teeth, fangs glinting in the night. An iron grip on his wrist, the night sky glimmering, changing, swirling.

"Holy shit, you're a vampire," Frank exclaimed, reaching up to prod at the guy's mouth.

"So are you," the guy complained, but allowed Frank to poke around at his gums. No fangs. Maybe they just came out at night or something like that.

Wait. _He_ was- Frank drew back, stuck his fingers in his own mouth and prodded at his teeth, sucked on the fingers absently. The guy went vaguely scarlet and Frank realised he was being unreasonably sexual towards an attractive but distressed stranger, removed his fingers and held out his hand. Yeah, so what if they were covered in spit. The guy drank blood, it was probably the least of his worries.

"I'm Frank," he said.

"Uh- I, Gerard. Gerard Way." True to Frank's guess, he accepted the handshake.

"Cool, Geeway," Frank said easily. "Thanks for saving me from death...kind of."

"Um, yeah," Gerard answered. "Do- do you want something to eat?"

"Sure," Frank said. "Are we going to eat a person?"

"What? No, there's leftover Chinese, though."

"Sweet. Anything without meat? I'm a vegan."

"...maybe? I think so."

"We're going to get along just fine, Gerard," Frank chirped before flouncing out the door and down the stairs, stopping suddenly at the bottom. There was... _bouncing_. Bouncing that shouldn't be happening. Gerard followed him and paused as well. Frank got distracted by the jagged line of his fringe.

"Are...are you alright?"

"Man, I don't have my chest binder. Where're my clothes?"

Frank turned and yep, Gerard was looking down at his tits. Lovely. Well, Frank's assumption that the dirty artist vampire was gay was wrong. He tried not to look too disappointed. Damnit, he always had to have the hots for the straight guys, didn't he? That was just asking for trouble.

"Your...oh, it, uh...your clothes didn't make it."

"Damn it. I had to order those from Japan. You wouldn't happen to have any sports bras my size hanging around, would you?"

"No," Gerard answered despondently.

Frank shrugged. "Okay."

"I'll go...heat up the food," Gerard said sheepishly, footsteps receeding down the hallway.

Damnit. Why did his vampire rescuer have to be exactly the right kind of attractive? Because Gerard was exactly Frank's type; with that too-long greasy hair, bright eyes, and that _ass_. Not to mention his music taste and the paint spilled everywhere- artists were hot. Maybe he should be a little worried about his current dead status, but it was warm in the house and there was what looked like a small library, and Frank thought, _yeah_ , _it's nice to have something like this_.

Frank wandered into the other room, finding a large shelf. Ooh, records.

###

Gerard came in to the room to find Frank sitting next to the record player with the Smashing Pumpkins on. The smaller man was leaning against the speaker, eyes closed as he hummed along happily. Frank's skin was white, and it made him look small and childish under the scruffy hair. His fangs wouldn't appear for a couple of days yet- but there were still obvious changes. Namely, his eye colour. Gerard hadn't known what colour they'd been in the darkness of the alley, but now they were a nearly see-through shade of orange and green.

Frank opened his eyes and the irises had darkened a little- he didn't look as dead- and Gerard mutely handed him a plate. He took it cheerfully, started forking food in his mouth at an impressive speed. Gerard wanted to ask, wanted to ask him where he'd been before this, why he'd been a tiny bloodstained lump in an alley and why he didn't care that he was a vampire, why he was... _him_.

"Am I your first?"

"My-?"

"Your first vampire," Frank said earnestly. Gerard averted his eyes from the skin Frank's leaning forward caused.

"Yeah. My brother...he's sired a lot of people, I just never felt like it was right?"

"What made me right?"

"I don't know," Gerard said honestly. "I didn't want you to die. For real, that is."

Frank smiled that little secret smile.

Gerard blushed and looked off to the side.

Frank placed his food aside, stood up to wander over to the open window. His fringe lifted slightly in the breeze, and Gerard's breath caught. He hadn't seen how _pretty_ Frank was before, but he could see this was going to be a large source of frustration for him. It wasn't even a sexual want; he was just oddly breathtaken by this little vampire he'd sired.

_Why were you in that alleyway,_ he thought, didn't ask.

"Do we heal up like in the movies?"

"Yeah," Gerard nodded. "We barely feel pain at all. I'm not sure about made vampires, but..."

"Wait." Frank turned with a wide grin like the sun coming up. "You were _born_ a vampire?"

"Um...yes? It's pretty rare now, the gene's dying...neither of my parents had it but Mikey- that's my brother- and I got it."

"That's amazing," Frank breathed, looking back out the window, up at the sky. "I can _see_ so much. Those colours didn't exisf before, and I can pick out planets and moons and- fuck, Gerard, I know it was just a hunch thing, but _thank you_."

Frank turned back to Gerard and Gerard could see the stars in his eyes, the bright gleam of life even though Frank was _dead_. And at that moment, Gerard Way fell a little in love with Frank Iero. Just the littlest bit.

He realised he was smiling sort of stupidly at Frank, but he was so happy. How many vampires turned someone and failed horribly? How many resurrected people who wanted to die, people that would stab them in the back? And here was Frank, happy as a clam, excited about the sky and music despite the fact twelve hours ago he'd been on the brink of death and had offered himself up to Gerard.

He'd been on the brink of death.

Why?

"I can get a...thing, for you, if you wanted," Gerard offered when he came back to reality and noticed Frank poking his chest uncomfortably, squinting down at the gentle slope his breasts made.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course," Gerard said. "I'm like, yeah. Of course. Whatever you need."

Frank nodded slowly. "You dealt with a transgender person before?"

"My brother," Gerard answered. He thought of Mikey, the way he snarled at the _Michelle Janine Way_ their parents used, the way Mikey would tighten the bandages on his chest until his ribs creaked. The way he'd hide deeper and deeper in his head until there was no one there. Gerard repressed a shudder, swore to himself that he'd buy Frank all the safe stuff he wanted.

"I'm non-binary, technically," Frank said offhandedly. "But I'll still take you up on that binder offer."

"Sure," Gerard nodded. "My brother lives a couple blocks away with his boyfriend, I'll text him."

"Cool," Frank said, still looking out the window. And yeah, Gerard could see the feminine tilt of his hips, but the way he held himself was one hundred percent male. There were contrasts wherever Gerard looked on Frank and he wanted to draw it. Frank didn't hide himself the way Mikey did, embraced the androgynous line and owned it. It suited him perfectly. He looked like he belonged here, amongst books and music in an oversized shirt, looking out at the sky like it held all the answers.

But he hadn't belonged here. He'd been in an alleyway, dying. Gerard had felt the brittle snap of one of his ribs. Frank's laughter echoed in his head, the sound of death and despair.

"Frank," he blurted out. "Why were you dying in an alleyway?"

Frank smiled ruefully, didn't look away from the window. "That's a long, complicated story, Gerard Way. Are you sure you want to know?"

"I'm your sire, of course I want to know!"

"Alright, you asked for it," Frank said, coming over to sit down on the carpet by the record player again. He splayed his hands out gently, looked up at Gerard.

"I'm a drug dealer. Kind of."


	3. Chapter 3

Francine Antoinette Iero was kind of, well...fucked up.

Frank Anthony Iero, Jr, was also fucked up, but in a totally different way.

" _Stupid girl," his father said distainfully. "Does that look like a dick to you?"_

_"Dad, I don't-"_

_"I don't care. I let you have your little tomboy phase, let you cut your hair and wear boy's underwear, but this is a fucking joke."_

_"Frank-" Linda started, pale and nervous._

_"No, Linda, the girl's a disgrace! Look at her!"_

_Frank twitched, hands folded tight in the pockets of his heavy hoodie, obscuring the duct tape keeping his chest somewhat flat, if painfully. He could barely see his father's disgusted look from behind the scruff of his fringe. So yeah, maybe he'd burned a couple of those long, lacy skirts they made him wear to Church. His jeans were sagging a little and he probably smelled like pot and beer and vomit, but he'd gone to a show last night, and they'd explained it. He'd explained it. And feeling like he belonged was worth far more than his father's approval._

" _Hey, people call me Dewees," the person had greeted. Francine had been confused, because she saw the feminine features and the eyeliner but the chest and the pants and the stubble were telling her something was up. Dewees, huh. She'd heard stories about Dewees, about a bathtub and candy and beer. The music had been bad, the vocalist not at all working with the guitarist and she was pretty sure she'd seen the bassist texting someone during a song._

_"I'm sorry," she'd said. "Are you a...man?"_

_Dewees smiled. "Not quite. I'm just me."_

_"So you're...neither? Or both?"_

_"A little bit man, a little bit nothing, a little bit everything. It's called being non-binary."_

_Francine had scrambled up on a stool, shirt plastered to her chest and eyes wide, curious. She hadn't everheard of this before, didn't even know it was possible to be anything but one or the other. Because that was all there was, right? Just male and female, just biology and not feelings. Except now there was something entirely new, something that was in between but neither and both all at once and it didn't make sense but it did, that you could wear dresses if you wanted but it didn't make you ultimately a girl, and if you wanted pants and a beard you weren't ultimately a man, either._

_Non-binary._

_Dewees had been happy to explain, eyes bright. Francine- Frank, he decided right then and there- had been happy to listen. It made sense, in a way nothing ever had before. Non-binary, huh. It made sense he wasn't part of the norm._

_"I don't like my body yet," he said to Dewees._

_"Change it. It's your body, Frankie," Dewees had replied like it was that simple._

Frank had been ejected from his home after that.

###

"Oh, Frankie," Gerard breathed.

Frank barely batted an eyelid. "That's not the worst part."

###

_"Can you actually pay for this dump?"_

_The landlord snickered and Frank gazed out the window, to the view of the dumpsters and the seedy alleyway. Yeah, so maybe his shirt was ripped and he didn't have a bra on and he smelled like pot and grease. It wasn't like this apartment was much better. The smell of stale food and some sort of wet animal was stuck up his nose; he probably couldn't get rid of that with an ocean of soap. It was just one room, nothing divided up except for the dingy toilet and shower. There wasn't a bed; the mouldy couch in the corner came with the place, however. Frank turned to eye the landlord as the man stuffed a cigar in his mouth._

_"I can try. No one else is going to pay for this shithole," Frank answered._

_"Hm. Is that so." The fat man looked unimpressed. "Perhaps you should be living on the streets, then."_

_Frank didn't mention that he was already on the streets, adjusted the strap on his backpack idly. A baggie with maybe a fingernail's worth of weed fell out and hit the stained carpet without a sound. Frank looked down at it dismally, let out an aggrieved sigh. There was a clomp of overpriced shoes and the landlord bent down, picked up the bag. Frank remained silent as he inspected it, raised an eyebrow in query. Most people would be calling the cops, but with the state of this complex, Frank wasn't entirely surprised he was having his weed inspected. He scratched at his dreadlocks._

_"You grow this yourself?"_

_"Maybe. Did you grow that gut yourself?"_

_The fat man raised a meaty fist, probably to smack Frank into oblivion, but paused. Frank waited for the punch patiently; it would add a nice purple to the green of the bruises already there._

_"I think we can work out something. If you stop with that damn attitude."_

_"Work out? I'd love to help you with your weight problems," Frank chirped._

_"You're so lucky this shit looks good," the fat man growled._

_###_

"You sold weed so you could live in a shithole?"

"Well, yeah," Frank admitted. "No one else was going to let me live at their place, I had these disgusting dreadlocks and I was just...gross."

Gerard didn't admit that he didn't think Frank could ever be gross. The smaller vampire was sitting in an old armchair that dwarfed him, and his face was almost completely white against the dark leather. Gerard looked over at the clock, frowned. It was far later than it should have been.  Like, more than a few hours than he'd expected. It had been maybe twelve hours since Frank had woken up, and Gerard winced. Frank didn't look so good; he was basically mumbling his story into the chair and his eyes were thin slits of pale orange. He looked small, and kind of weak, and his hands were clenching erratically at the armrests.

"O' course, I had more...more money," Frank muttered. "Needed th' job, no one'd hire me. Gonna pay for some...stuff. Help me pass 'n shit. Couldn't pay for the test'st'rone this year."

"You pass fine, you look like you," Gerard coaxed.

In his mind, he was already browsing his memory for testosterone and surgery prices. Frank was his...well, Gerard was his _sire_ , he had to take care of him. He remembered Mikey bringing home a sopping wet and dazed Pete Wentz in the rain and grinning at Gerard before running off to get fresh clothes for the nearly-dead boy. He remembered the Elena's house, the way his grandmother had proudly looked over Mikey and Pete and offered them a drink of O Negative. He remembered Mikey acquiring Alicia, Gabe, all of them as close as could be. Elena had left her house to them as a gift, pleased as punch that Mikey had connected with all these people.

Maybe he'd get that with more people later, but Gerard just trusted his gut feeling that Frank was his and he was Frank's. He stood up and made his way over to Frank, settled down on his knees in the spot between Frank's spread thighs. Frank's eyes focused on him sort of blearily, and Gerard caught him before he listed to the side. He wasn't heavy at all; Vampirism meant Frank was light and Gerard could probably carry him even if he was. Frank slumped a little, eyes struggling to focus on Gerard's face.

"Wha's goin' on?"

"Your body's still getting used to the vampire thing," Gerard explained quietly. "You'll probably freak out when you wake up next, because everything in your brain'll be back online. Emotions and stuff."

"....oh. Why does m' mouth hurt?"

"Your fangs are trying to get out. Your cells are...ah...dying from lack of oxygen in the blood, or something. I never learned the science."

"Oh."

"I'll fix it, just- come back here, Jesus."

Frank started falling back, a little limp this time and Gerard caught him carefully, hooked his fingers around the back of his neck. Frank's hair was kind of painful-feeling on his fingertips, rough and greasy, but Gerard sighed and guided Frank's mouth to his neck. Frank breathed out, air warm on Gerard's throat, and then there were lips on his neck. His fangs probably wouldn't work until the next day, Gerard realised as he felt the scrape of blunt teeth and tried not to shiver. Had Mikey been this... _close_ to all of his vampires?

Probably.

Gerard's free hand closed around a nearby letter opener and he held Frank a few inches away when he cut himself, for safety's sake. He felt the slow dribble of warmth down his collarbone and Frank's eyes snapped open immediately, fixated on the blood. Gerard closed his eyes when Frank latched on, patted a few fingers through that coarse hair and tried to think strictly non-sexual thoughts. Thoughts that weren't about Frank's tongue sliding up the skin of his throat, the way he was sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Leave a mark, one that proved to everyone that he was _Frank's_.

_Fuck,_ he mouthed at the ceiling, because it wasn't supposed to feel like his entire body was buzzing. It wasn't supposed to be this _good_ , and he'd heard about connections but this was different because he could feel Frank's consciousness bumping up against his. He caught a glimpse of red hair, the sound of a guitar string breaking and pushed away Frank's mind. Gerard sucked in a sharp breath and pulled Frank away from his throat by his hair. Frank whined, tugged at the grip as he tried to get back to the already healing wound. Gerard thumbed the blood off of the corner of his lips.

"Mrgh."

"No, you'll get sick if you drink too much at once."

Frank swiped at him half-heartedly with one hand and Gerard caught him by the wrist firmly, ran his thumb over the rapid beat of Frank's pulse. Frank's eyes flickered to his face, back down to his neck and then to his own hand, but remained completely still. Gerard smiled faintly. It was kind of creepy the way he was being eyed off, but there was a certain charm to it, too. He waited until Frank's pulse slowed down to a faint, barely-there tapping, and then released.

Frank sank back into the chair and Gerard let out the breath he'd been holding as those pale eyes closed. He leaned back, got his knees off the armchair silently and reached for his phone, clicked it open and began to text Mikey. Frank made a snuffling noise and tried to roll over in the chair. He nearly fell out at the movement and Gerard steadied him absently as he waited for Mikey to reply. He was surgically attached to his phone, it shouldn't take long for an answer.

**Gerard: Have u still got those chest binders?**

**Mikey: yeah why**

**Gerard: Got a friend that needs to borrow them until the new ones ship over.**

**Mikey: sure**

**Mikey: wait a minute**

**Mikey: who is this friend you have no friends**

**Gerard: I do so!!!**

**Mikey: sure**

**Gerard: Can I have the binders or not?**

**Mikey: will they even fit your friend you cant just wear too small ones**

**Gerard: They'll be fine!**

**Mikey: if you say so**

**Mikey: so who'd you turn? do i know them**

**Gerard: No!!!**

**Mikey: what's their name**

**Gerard: Frank.**

**Mikey: is he cute**

**Gerard: Maybe. You can't have him.**

**Mikey: okay ill bring them over tomorrow love you bro**

**Gerard: Love you too xoxo**


	4. Chapter 4

_"Have you ever thought of siring someone yet, Gee?"_

_Gerard blinked. "No?"_

_"How do you know...like, when someone is the person you should turn?"_

_They were at Elena's when Mikey first mentioned it to Gerard, the elder brother's fangs showing up with puberty. Mikey gave him an earnest look that Gerard couldn't return because he didn't know. He had thought about it, sure. But he wanted it to be like his grandparents, where they met one summer like a romantic movie. And he was regretfully a romantic at heart. He wasn't going to tell Mikey he wanted a cliche 'the one' story, though. He frowned at Mikey and that was when his grandmother walked into the room, overhearing their conversation._

_"There's a rumour," Elena said, eyes sparkling as she looked over Mikey and Gerard sprawled next to each other on the couch, "that the people that survive the turning are your soulmates."_

_"Like...friend soulmates or romantic soulmates?"_

_Mikey always had loved his friends more than anyone else, even at the ripe age of ten, with tangled waist-length hair and wide eyes. He had...romantic friends, relationships that were ridiculously strong, like with Alicia from down the street. Gerard didn't say it, but he felt more monogamous about the idea of a soulmate. He liked the idea of someone in the world being just perfect for you, and you being just perfect for them. Gerard was a romantic, Mikey was a socialite._

_"You'll know, when it's right," Elena answered. "Friend or otherwise."_

_Gerard had gone to sleep that night dreaming of a warm body curled next to his, pulse barely beating and fingers splayed on his stomach. When he woke up the next morning he could still smell cigarette smoke and a faint whiff of a soap brand he didn't buy. When he told Elena she smiled that secret smile and patted him on the knee._

_###_

"Oh, dude, what are you watching?" Frank asked.

Gerard shut the laptop immediately, cheeks flaming. He'd forgotten the vampire bond meant Frank could locate him pretty much anywhere, even if he was on the roof. Frank raised an eyebrow curiously, even though he looked like he'd blow over if the breeze was a little stronger. Gerard tilted his chin up, located with his hearing the extremely slow beat of Frank's heart. If it sped up they'd be in trouble because that meant his body wasn't adjusting to the change well. He could always call Mikey if there were problems, though. Mikey had a ridiculously high success rate when it came to siring.

"What was that?"

Gerard ignored the possessiveness he felt at the sight of that small body in his oversized clothes. Frank sat down next to him on the roof, swung his feet out over the edge of the building. Gerard cast him a worried look but Frank rolled his eyes, wiggled his toes a little. Goddamn Frank, being so _cute_. That shit should be illegal. Fingers tapped on the closed lid of the laptop impatiently and Gerard let out a perturbed sigh. Well, Frank did live with him. All their dark secrets were pretty much having to be out in the open anyway.

"I'm animating a comic," he said, quietly. Yeah, Frank was going to think he was a huge dork.

"Cool," Frank answered, pushed his scruffy head under Gerard's chin and stole the laptop. Gerard sighed and allowed the theft. "Like Doom Patrol? It looked gory."

"Exactly," Gerard replied, a little surprised. "You read comics?"

"Mmhm. Superheroes are great."

Gerard let out a shocked giggle. They weren't kidding about those vampire instincts after all, Frank was _perfect_. He liked Gerard's music, Gerard's comics and he hadn't even known about vampires before this but he was still completely unfazed. Gerard felt his heart drop out of his stomach as Frank looked over the animations and grinned brightly. He was interested in what Gerard was doing and came out to look even though he was sick, and he kept explaining himself to Gerard even when he was nearly passing out. Frank Iero was Gerard Way's first vampire, and the squeeze in his chest made him think Frank might be more than that.

"This is so cool," Frank enthused. "Do you think that-"

The rest of Frank's words were cut off by Gerard's lips and came out as more of a 'mmph' noise. Gerard felt a trickle of worry, of shocked anticipation as Frank melted against him.

"Oh," Frank murmured when they broke away, not actually sounding very surprised. Gerard felt the pressure of a small hand on the center of his chest and felt a trickle of worry. They'd been hanging together for two days; Frank probably didn't-

"I don't feel so-"

Gerard caught Frank as his eyes unfocused and he passed out. Well, looks he wasn't going to remember it anyway. Now it didn't matter whether Frank wanted him romantically or not. No harm, no foul. It wasn't like he was brave enough to try this again. He stood up with Frank in his arms, began to carry him down the stairs and ignored the fizz of disappointment in his stomach.

###

"What did he bribe you with?"

Frank blinked sleepily at the brunette sitting at the kitchen table. His face felt numb, and his throat ached and there was a stranger in his- Gerard's house. A guy with ridiculously long legs and dark eyes that could probably swallow the sun looked over Frank like he was a newfound science experiment. His eyes were lined with dark shadows and there was that odd paleness that Frank had only seen from himself and Gerard. Who _was_ this guy? And where was Ge- never mind, he was in the bathroom, Frank could sense him. Fuck, that was weird.

"Bribe...?"

"You're _hot_ , he must have given you something so you'd agree to let him sire you," the guy said patiently.

"No," Frank answered plainly. "He didn't."

"I'm Mikey," the guy offered. _Oh_.

"Gerard's brother."

"Mm. So. What did my brother do to you?"

Frank snorted. "Saved my life."

"What?" Mikey's eyebrows raised fractionally.

Frank noticed a cup of steaming coffee on the bench and scooped it up, blew at the steam idly. He hoped vampires could have coffee- he couldn't live without the stuff. But if they ate Chinese he assumed it would be okay. "Yeah. I was going to die. He found me in an alleyway, bleeding out. It was pretty dramatic, and now I'm a fucking vampire. My life is crazy."

Mikey got up silently, exited the room. He tried not to feel too offended at this attitude the younger Way brother seemed to have. Frank took a sip of the coffee and savoured the taste, leaned against the counter. It didn't help that he could hear everything Mikey and Gerard were saying in the next room; his ears were ringing with every word. And he still felt like he was going to pass out. Ugh, being alive was nice and all but did everything have to _hurt_?

"Is this just your superhero complex coming through? You know you can't just turn someone to save their life."

Gerard sounded indignant. "No. I haven't sired anyone, _ever_ , you think I'd do it to save someone's life? I barely knew he was dying, he just smelled... _right_."

"Right."

"I didn't know, Mikes! We met and he just offered himself and he was soaked in blood and he was _beautiful_ , Mikey, he just- I don't even know!"

"So he was food you felt bad for?"

"This is not a goddamn guilt thing!"

"Seems a lot like it."

"It wasn't- it isn't. He- I know it looks bad, but I really think this is a good thing. Please. It felt right."

"You haven't sired anyone before this, so. Maybe you're right."

"It's not a guilt thing."

"Whatever you say."

"Go apologize to him, Mikes. Fucking hell."

Mikey's return to the kitchen was ignored by Frank, who was making his second cup of coffee. Lovely coffee. Coffee that did not question his motives. It was quite possibly his favourite thing about the coffee, that it did not question him or the person that had saved his life. He heard Mikey stop on the other side of the counter, stared up at the ceiling light instead.

"I didn't mean anything by that."

"You have really low expectations of your brother," Frank replied. "Coffee?"

"Two sugars. It's not that, it's just...a big thing, for us."

"I don't know anything about big things," Frank said with a halfhearted glance down at his crotch.

Mikey snorted. "Our mom's been pressuring him about siring lately. Probably because of me."

"Why, are you some kind of vampire slut?" Frank passed him the coffee.

"I've sired six people. Gerard's older than me. It's weird not to have someone by now."

"You sound like you're in one of those countries where it's weird to not be married before twenty."

"That's...pretty much what it is," Mikey admitted. "You're not freaked out about being my brother's vampire wife?"

Frank shrugged. "I've had a lot of bad shit happen to me, this is at least straightforward. I'm a vampire, he's a vampire, we drink blood. None of that other crap that humans have. Anyway, I like your brother, we probably would have been friends even without the whole life-saving thing. Also, free lodging and free coffee. Not to mention his orgasm-worthy vinyl collection."

"I can see why he picked you now," Mikey answered.

"My biting wit and irresistible charm was the deciding factor," Frank deadpanned.

The corner of Mikey's lips tilted upwards slightly. Frank took that as a sign he was winning the younger Way brother over and grinned, baring all of his non-vampire teeth. Might as well get in good with the in-laws now he was a vampire bride or whatever. They probably wouldn't approve of a drug dealer but at least his gender wouldn't be as much of a problem.

Gerard arrived in the room and immediately wandered over to Frank's side of the kitchen, gently put his fingers against Frank's neck. Frank allowed it, taking a gulp of coffee and eyeing him out of the corner of one eye. Gerard squinted for a moment and then nodded absently. Frank couldn't see Mikey properly but some sixth sense told him that there was eyerolling happening. Dramatic eyerolling, even. Frank made a disgusted face. He did not need babying, even if he was technically a baby vampire.

"Drink some of the blood in the fridge," Gerard instructed, completely oblivious to Mikey as his fingers left Frank's skin.

"I don't have to like, bite people all the time?"

"Your fangs haven't grown out yet, Frank. You can't bite anything."

"I can bite your-"

"Woah," Mikey interrupted. "Just put the damn blood in your coffee and we'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Frank wandered over to the fridge and opened it up, locating the Tupperware containers of blood and pulling one out. Gerard started cheerfully talking about D&D to Mikey while he poured half of it into his coffee and took a cautious sip. And maybe the vampire thing had changed him a little because that shit tasted fucking _divine_. He might have moaned out loud, he wasn't entirely sure.

"This is good shit," he exclaimed.

Mikey snorted, Gerard giggled.

"I brought the binders," Mikey said after a moment. "You can have them."

He really had passed the fucking test. Gerard beamed and Frank's eyes lit up. Other people, with their 'death is a bad thing' mentality, when Frank was doing far better as a vampire than he did as a human any day.

He was a fucking winner.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: for those of you that read the Suicide Prevention Squad, the new chapter is nearly done, I swear.

###

_"Gerard," Donna greeted as he came in the front door, reeking of sweat and smoke._

_Gerard paused, took in the way she was sitting there with a glass of wine, like she'd been waiting for him. It was around three am, far past everyone's bedtime, especially humans. This didn't bode well for him at all. He couldn't hear his father anywhere in the house, but he closed his eyes and managed to locate Ryan Ross reading poetry in Mikey's room. Well, at least someone else was in the house. Ross likely wouldn't intervene, though, and Gerard felt his worry grow._

_"Gerard, I'm worried about you," Donna said._

_"Why? Mom, I'm totally clean, I just went to see a friend's show," and it was true, he hadn't touched any alcohol for weeks. He was done. He'd been in a bar, sure, but he'd just ordered a Coke and went to watch Ray shred. It had been a good night, he'd enjoyed it._

_Donna looked unimpressed. "That's not what this is about."_

_"Then wh-"_

_"Gerard, why haven't you sired anyone?"_

_What? That's what this was about? "I just...haven't found someone yet, ma."_

_"Gerard."_

_"What?"_

_"We've given you plenty of time after your...problems, we haven't pushed you, but this is ridiculous. Your sister's not even eighteen and she has three young vampires."_

_"Mikey isn't me, it's different." He didn't argue about gender, just gave his mother a pleading look. Misgendering Mikey was one way to make sure Ryan Ross came down here, and Gerard didn't want him to hear this conversation. "I need to find the right person first."_

_Donna snorted. "You're not a girl, Gerard. Do you think your father and I were in love when we got married?"_

_"Ma, it's-"_

_"Yes, yes, it's different. But still. Everyone else in the family has sired at fifteen or younger. Why do you feel the need to be like this?"_

_"Like what...?"_

_"You always have to be different," she answered dismissively. "Well, you're going to be even more different now, because your father and I have decided you're going to have to leave this house."_

_He heard Ryan freeze on the stairs but ignored it, wide eyes on Donna. "What?"_

_"You've got enough money to get your own place. If you're not going to follow our ways, then you should leave."_

_"Ma, please-"_

_His mother remained impassive. "Your bags are packed, Gerard. Go."_

_Gerard ignored the tears pricking at his eyes and shuffled past her, making his way down the basement stairs. True to her words, there were three bags on his mattress, all his stuff gone. He picked up one bag and stared at the blank wall emptily, letting out a teary sigh. He couldn't just turn someone; it didn't work like that. His mother obviously didn't understand that._

_Ryan Ross came down the stairs silently. Gerard didn't look at him. "Don't tell Mikey she kicked me out."_

_"What should I tell him instead? You kicked yourself out? This isn't right."_

_"Just don't, Ryan. He doesn't need this kind of crap on top of everything else."_

_"...fine."_

_Gerard picked up the backpack and slung it on, grabbed a duffel with one hand. He had enough money to survive on, he'd be fine. He was a little worried about leaving Mikey at the mercy of their parents, but he had Ryan and Pete and Gabe. Pete was apprehensive of the Ways, sure, but Gabe and Ryan certainly weren't. They wouldn't allow much of the misgendering to go on._

_When he turned, Ryan hugged him lightly. "We'll look after him," he said firmly._

_Gerard sniffed. "Thanks. I'll- I'll call, okay? Every week."_

_"Damn right you will," and fuck, Gerard wanted someone who was this fiercely protective of him._

_But that was the whole problem, wasn't it_?

###

" _Fuck_!"

"Frank? What's wr-"

Gerard walked into the room, sounding puzzled, as Frank spat out an alarmingly large mouthful of blood. He'd been looking for food when it had happened and whatever it was, it _hurt_. It felt like he had razor blades in his gums, Jesus fucking Christ. Frank was braced against the fridge, one hand pressed tight over his cheek. There was blood everywhere; on Frank's feet and ratty shirt and on the floor and on the fridge. Frank tried to ignore the little trickle of fear amongst the sharp pain in his mouth. Shit, this was _horrible_.

"Aw, Frankie," Gerard said sympathetically, pressing his cool fingers over Frank's on his face.

Frank grunted in return, assuming his own expression was far from forgiving. He'd had periods more fun  than this.

"Hey, let me see," Gerard coaxed, his free hand smoothing down Frank's side. Over the binder fastened tight across his ribs, and it was comforting, having that kind of gentle acceptance. Frank opened his mouth obediently, let Gerard inspect the source of the pain. Gerard's fingers came away slick with Frank's blood and he had the urge to suck it off, stared at it fixatedly. Would Gerard mind if he did? Because he really, really wanted to, like the blood was actually drawing him closer.

His mouth was about an inch from Gerard's hand when it was withdrawn and he let out a low, pained whine. Fucking hell, his mouth hurt. This couldn't possibly be normal, even for vampires. Gerard didn't let him hang there for long, stroked a gentle hand down his face and guided him back up to standing straight. Frank stared at those bright eyes, pale and greenish in the light, and sighed. Gerard ran his thumb up and down the line of Frank's jaw and then, gently, brought Frank's face to the curve of his bare neck.

"You have to be gentle, okay," Gerard breathed. "Promise me."

Frank closed his eyes and felt the warm skin against his face. Oh man, he felt better just here, like Gerard's presence had some sort of healing effect. He could feel Gerard's pulse, faint but there. It felt like there was a promise of life there and something in Frank's chest clenched. His mouth hurt so much, and he was so empty, it was agonizing and he just wanted it to _stop_. He could feel frustrated tears pricking at his eyes. Why did it hurt so much? This wasn't fair.

"Frank, promise," Gerard prompted.

"...yeah, I...gentle, right," he mumbled against the skin.

"Okay," Gerard answered haltingly. "You can- you can do it, now."

Frank wasn't entirely sure what Gerard meant by that but all he could smell was blood underneath the smooth layer of skin and the faint sound of his heart beating. And he needed it, he needed it like the oxygen he couldn't quite get. Gerard's hand tightened in his scruffy hair just shy of rough and Frank bit him. It was like biting into warm butter, easy but almost sickening and then there was blood on Frank's lips and it tasted fucking _divine_. He could feel the way that the breath caught in Gerard's throat, feel his pulse accelerating slightly. God, that was hot.

The blood was arousing by itself though, and Frank had never been scared of the stuff but the way he could feel the buzz in his fucking _toes_ was brand new. He was barely aware of the way he was pressing Gerard against the counter, one hand firm on his slender hip. Gerard's hands tightened in his hair and he felt a weird sensation, like someone else's brain was stuck in with his. He could smell ink and cigarette smoke, felt something sharp under his fingertips. And that wasn't his mind, that was Gerard's, thinking about Frank's lips on his neck. Bruising him with teeth sharp and blunt, the rough press of a hand on his hip bone.

When Gerard whispered " _fuck_ ," quiet and shaky, Frank made an answering noise against his skin. God, he just wanted to drain him _dry_ , holy shit. But underneath his hand he could feel Gerard trembling slightly and he let go at that, dragging his tongue up the bitemark slowly. Gerard sucked in a weak breath and Frank drew back, still buzzing in places he probably shouldn't, and wiped at his mouth. Gerard's hand went slack in his hair.

"...damn," Frank said.

"Damn," Gerard agreed breathlessly.

"I could feel your fucking brain, dude," Frank added, giggling. "That was so much better than any pot I've ever had."

Gerard giggled back. "I could feel your fucking brain too, it's so _weird_."

They were still laughing when Frank slumped against Gerard, sleepily grabbed for his hand and squeezed it. Gerard squeezed back.

"Is it weird that I feel like I've been waiting for this forever?"

"No," Gerard answered, breath warm on Frank's ear. "No, me too."

###

Gerard remembered the ripped leather jacket as he picked up a book Ryan Ross has sent him, some odd poetry thing. For some reason he'd been sending a lot of poetry recently, it was odd. Normally he got novels. Frank was half-asleep in an armchair, fangs finally retracting and leaving him tired but still quite... _Frank_. Gerard kept expecting him to freak out about this entire situation but he was quite at home here. Gerard honestly wouldn't have it any other way; it'd been a few days but it felt like Frank was as much a part of the house as the CDs or the comics.

"Oh, Frank. Do you want your jacket? It was the only part of your clothes I could save. I haven't washed it yet, but I saved the stuff in your pockets."

"The stuff in my pockets?" Frank sounded vaguely puzzled.

"Yeah, that stack of papers? There's some blood on them but I think they're still legible."

"Those...oh, _fuck_."

He sounded completely alert now and Gerard turned to him worriedly, raised an eyebrow. "Frank?"

"Where are they? We need to go out, like now. Pronto, Gerard Way."

Gerard blinked, got up and retrieved the stained wad of paper from the stained jacket, unfolded it and looked down for a minute. Wait. That picture was-

_Name: Michelle Janine Way (changed to Michael James Way in October 2001)_   
_Age: 20_   
_Species: Vampyre (Born)_   
_Status: Alive_   
_Sired: Peter Kingston Wentz, Alicia (Last Name Unknown), George Ryan Ross, Raymond Toro, Gabriel Saporta, Patrick Vaughn Stumph._   
_Notes:_   
_-Lives in House With Saporta, Wentz And Stumph_   
_-Appears to be Romantically Involved With Wentz_   
_-Largest Amount of Siring by One Vampyre in North America_   
_-Goes by the pseudonym 'Mikey'_   
_-Aggressive, Obtaining Way May Be Difficult_   
_-The Brother May Be A Problem (See Page 4, Gerard Arthur Way)_

"Frank...what the fuck is this?"

Frank looked at him with large, apprehensive eyes, pale green-orange irises nearly luminescent. Gerard felt a chill run down his spine. Why did the kid he'd turned into a vampire have a sheet filled with information about his _brother_?

"It's a really long fucking story and I literally fucking died for it, but we need to warn these people now," Frank said in a rush.

"These are all people I know," Gerard said, flicking through the pages. Vampires, all of them. Most of them either in the Way family or related to them in some form. Gabe Saporta was on the second page, then Patrick Stump and himself. Shit. He had his own profile, the picture taken when he was at a bar, pale and drunk with his hair sticking everywhere.

"Shit. You need to get them out, now. I can explain in the car, just get them all somewhere safe," Frank said hurriedly.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: guess who's still alive? Sorry for the wait, y'all

###

_Ray's hand scraped over a cut on Frank's arm and he grimaced at the sting of it, swatted the hand away. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling loosely as Ray set out his medical equipment. Gauze, alcohol, bandages- Frank had no idea why Ray lived in this shithole when he clearly wasn't bankrupt like the rest of them. Ray nudged his shoulder until he turned enough to have the slice at the back of his neck inspected. There was a brief flash of pain and then the sting of the alcohol, and Frank hissed at the burning sensation._

_"Why do you get yourself into these situations, Frank," Ray said in a resigned tone._

_Frank shrugged. "Gotta stand up for what you believe in, you know. Wouldn't be a good person if I didn't."_

_Ray snorted. "I don't go picking fights and I'm stiill a good person."_

_"Yeah, but you were good to begin with," Frank repkied. "I'm still making up for all the shit I did wrong."_

_"Whatever you say, Frank," Ray agreed, mildly sarcastic, taping down the gauze._

_###_

"I don't get it," the guy with really bad emo bangs said.

The strawberry blonde next to him sighed. "Maybe we'd find out if you'd stop complaining."

"Is this everyone?" Frank directed the question at Gerard quietly, watching (he thought maybe the dark-haired one was called Pete) the two vampires perched on the couch. They were standing in the kitchen of Gerard's grandmother's, Mikey's place of residence. Mikey himself was somewhere upstairs, calling the girl called Alicia. She was the only one that didn't live close by, and Mikey seemed fairly confident that she could handle herself well enough. The really tall guy had gone outside to get some fresh air, and he seemed like the only one that wasn't unsettled by all this.

"We're missing Ray and Ryan," Gerard said absently, tapping his fingers against the counter.

Frank nodded, tried to ignore the waves of both sleepiness and nausea threatening to overtake him. Gerard had shipped them both here immediately, as per Frank's command, but it didn't help that Frank was still adjusting to the change. It'd be nice if it was just a wham, bam, thank you ma'am kind of job, but apparently it took like a week. He was still trying to talk and eat without his _fangs_ accidentally popping out. It was really inconvenient, actually. And he was kind of hungry again. Fucking delicate vampire baby that he was.

"Are they in the area?"

"Yeah, Ryan lives nextdoor, but he's probably at the bookstore. Ray lives over on the south district."

"Yeah, we should- we should, yeah, we," Frank slipped sideways, eyes closing briefly under a wave of dizziness. If he could just sit _down_ , it'd be fine. He briefly entertains the thought of just dropping to the kitchen floor and sleeping forever, fuck the situation they're currently in. He felt his knees hit the tiles but then he's gone, only vaguely thinking _I was joking about sleeping on the floor, goddamnit._ But it's too late and he's already gone, forehead bumping the counter on the way down.

###

Everything's still hazy and tilted when he wakes up. He should really stop passing out in random places.

Frank notices it's nighttime, so he's been out for a while. He's in someone's bedroom, someone who likes writing weird poetry on their walls. He vaguely notices that his binder's been taken off and waits for the pang of uncertainty that comes with visible breasts, but nothing comes. Thank fuck. It's one of the better days, it seems. He rolls onto his side so he's not laying on his chest and realises someone's sleeping next to him, barely breathing at all but deliciously warm nonetheless. Frank knows who it is immediately, has it written into his skin, and smiles.

He rolls all the way over so he can see Gerard's sleep-messed hair falling over his face, the slack arch of his mouth. He's wearing a hoodie and briefs, which is stupid because it's harder to steal his body warmth when he's all bundled up. Frank lets out a grunt and wriggles closer, ignoring the way his brain attempts to slide out of his head. Gerard doesn't wake up at the movement, but he slings an arm over Frank's waist and maybe that's better. Except his thumb is on the skin of Frank's bare hip and it shouldn't make him this _wriggly_ , but it does. He can't help imagining Gerard's fingers slipping lower, careful and skilled and-

Frank shivers. _Nope_.

Of course, this is when Gerard opens his eyes and regards Frank sleepily. Fucking hell, no one was that pretty when they just woke up. It had to be a fluke, some weird freak of nature, even if he suspected it was normal for Gerard. Frank was aware his own irises were an inhumanly pale shade of orange-green but Gerard's were this vibrant hazel, still pale but not as noticeable. It was so goddamn pretty and- yep, wriggling again.

"Hey," he says softly, because he can't think of anything else to say.

"Hi," Gerard answers, a smile hinting at his lips. "How are you feeling?"

"Everything's kind of...fuzzy. What happened?"

"You fell. Mikey tried to catch you but he accidentally bumped your head," Gerard supplied, and Frank sighed.

"That's why I have a headache?"

"Well, no, that's probably because of the blood loss from the fang growth," Gerard replied.

"Mm," Frank said, contemplative. "But I don't feel like drinking any blood yet."

"Yeah. Sorry, you might pass out a lot."

Gerard made an attempt to shrug, and Frank noticed that the thumb on his hip was brushing up and down to some sort of rhythm. It was likely Gerard had intended for it to be rhythmic and calming, but it was like he had bugs crawling under his _skin_ , he couldn't stop shifting around. He grunted and smacked Gerard's hand away gently. Frank noticed the worried look he got in that moment and opened his mouth to apologize, but Gerard was already talking, an embarrassed blush climbing up his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, I'm not trying to come onto you or anything, I'd never force you into something you didn't-"

"Fucking hell," Frank said. "You are seriously welcome to do whatever you want to me, whenever you want. Clear?"

Gerard's eyes were nearly the size of the moon. "Frank, I-"

"Guys, we have a problem," Mikey said.

Frank flinched away fron Gerard, startled, and stared at Mikey in the doorway. He leant against the frame, and even though his expression didn't change Frank had the distinct suspicion he was smirking. Asshole. Gerard groaned next to him and buried his face into the pillow like he could hide. Frank snorted and sat up, pushing his fringe off of his face.

"What is it, Mikey?"

"One of my boys isn't answering his phone," Mikey answered.

"Where does he live?"

"It's Ray, right? He's in the really shitty district over on south," Gerard said, voice muffled by the pillow.

"On south?"

"Yeah, real crap place with this ridiculously overweight man and puke-green carpet. You know it?"

Frank felt a chill down his spine. "I...I live there."

Gerard stiffened next to him.

"Wait, is his name...Ray Toro?"

"Yes."

"Fuck. He's my neighbour, Gerard. This is bad."

"You don't say," Mikey said in the same monotone he always had. "We need to check this shit out."

Gerard sat up, took the pants that Mikey handed to him and tried to pull them on while still lying down. Frank just wriggles out from under the sheets and starts walking out, stopping when he makes it to the door. He glances back and Gerard's just watching him, a stupidly fond look on his face. Mikey is rustling around in a drawer, so Frank feels safe enough to mirror Gerard's expression back at him. At least, until a binder hits him in the face. He pulls it off his face and tries to put it on while leaving his shirt on. It doesn't really work very well, and he gets stuck in the neck of his shirt.

"Frank, are you...okay, there?"

Frank grumbles. Yep, he's definitely stuck. He wriggles around violently for a few minutes and bumps into a table before warm hands steady him. Gentle fingers untangle his shirt from his head and he's left blinking at Gerard blankly. Mikey must've left at some point when he was stuck.

"Want some help?" Gerard asked, soft.

Frank noticed he had the binder looped over one wrist. It didn't look like he was getting the damn thing on any other way, so he nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Gerard's eyes lit up imperceptibly, and he held it out so Frank could slip his hand through the neck and arm hole. Frank did so silently, and the only sound was the nearly inaudible sound of Gerard breathing.

Frank let out the air in his lungs slowly. Sure, they'd been together pantless and he'd sucked Gerard's blood, but this was... _unbelievably intimate_. He sucked in the air again when fingers brushed his ribs, light and soft. Their height difference meant that Gerard's breaths were ruffling his hair slightly. His hands smoothed down the material and tugged it so it was sitting in the right place, and then Gerard's lips were pressing against his cheek gently. Frank looked up and they met eyes again, and Gerard smiled.

"We'd better get going."

"Gerard, I-"

"We'll figure it out after all this is over," Gerard said, and Frank laughed.

"Yeah, okay, Way."

###

Mikey pushed at the door to Ray's apartment with one finger and it creaked open ominously. Frank looked around nervously, tried to shift behind the door. There was a bang from down the hall and Gerard looked in that direction, expression apprehensive. Mikey disappeared into the depths of the apartment and Frank shuffled after him, nervous. The clogging scent of blood was almost in his throat, and he cracked his jaw, trying to get used to the sensation of his fangs dropping down.

"Frank, you said you came here sometimes?"

"Yeah," Frank replied. "Ray sometimes patched me up when I got fucked up."

Mikey nodded, and wandered into the corridor that led to the bedroom. Frank made his way over to the kitchen. It looked the same as it normally did, kind of neat, with a few boxes of cereal lined up on the counter. Frank let his fingers trail idly across the smooth surface. That is, until his fingers stopped on something slimy. He looked down and felt himself pale slightly. Oh, fuck. That did not spell good news at all. In fact, it was pretty much the opposite of good news. Frank swallowed down the nausea rising in his stomach.

"Mikey," he called out cautiously, lifting his hands away from the blood. It wasn't dried very much, which meant it was fairly recent. He looked across the counter and went cold.

"Frank, what's- oh, shit."

Gerard stopped in the doorway, and Frank could hear Mikey a step behind him.

Frank looked down at the picture of Ray, soaked in his own blood, mouth open in a silent scream. It looked like the picture had been taken in this very kitchen. Frank's eyes ran over the slice across Ray's neck, over to the red painted nails scraping across his bare chest. The woman had seated herself in Ray's lap, with one leg swung over his thighs. Her dark hair was pulled into two pigtails high up on her head, and her lips were curled into a smirk, right at the camera. Frank felt a shiver roll down his spine and grimaced. He'd seen her before this.

_"Aw, we can't kill him, he's positively adorable!"_

"Frank, do you know who that is?" Gerard's voice was hard, although there was a hint of trepidation in it.

"My boss," Frank answered, taking his eyes off the photo to look back at Gerard.

"Fucking Lindsey Ballato," Mikey spat, in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. Frank flinched away as Mikey's fist hit the counter and the wood broke under his hand with a crash. Mikey lifted his hand and there were splinters sticking out of his skin painfully. Frank grimaced.

"She's my ex," Gerard said.

"Oh," Frank replied.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: it is 11pm and i just forfeited my dinner to publish this_

_###_

_Mikey's voice over the phone line was sharp, extremely displeased. "Ryan told me what happened. You should've stayed with Elena. You should've told me the truth."_

_"I wasn't risking getting you in trouble too, or Elena," Gerard answered helplessly. "It's okay."_

_"It shouldn't have taken this long for me to find out," he snapped, or as least as much as one can in a complete monotone. "It's been years."_

_Gerard didn't answer his brother, looked out the window of his apartment. Outside, it was nice-looking, kind of empty. Not people were out at this time, so it was good to open a window and lean out, enjoying the faint breeze in peace. Or, not peace, depending on who you were. Gerard flinched as Mikey's harsh sigh came over the line. He clenched the charcoal in his hand tighter, tried not to think about how he was running out of blood. His throat hurt, like it was too dry and caving in on itself._

_"Gerard, our parents are wrong," Mikey stressed. "You'll find the right person when you're ready. It wasn't fair of them to just-"_

_"I-hang on, something weird is happening outside."_

_Gerard leaned further out the window, eyes fixed on the staggering figure in ripped clothes. He breathed in through his mouth, caught the hint of blood in the air. That didn't smell like normal injuries. Whoever it was, they smelt like something entirely different. Gerard felt his hands slide down, licked the blood that arrived at the corner of his mouth. That sort of reaction was not normal. People got attacked by shit all the time. He shouldn't be reacting this badly to such a normal happening in the city._

_In fact, it didn't smell normal at all. It smelt like-_

_"I need to go, I'll call you back," Gerard said hurriedly, grabbing his boots from by the door._

###

"So how do we get to her?" Pete leaned forward in his chair, eyes hard and dark.

"We can't just run in there and expect to be big heroes," Ryan answered him dryly, crossing his legs neatly on the couch. Pete looked offended at the idea that he wasn't a hero. "We're vampires, not big happy do-gooders. I'm pretty sure at least half of us were drug addicts at some point."

"You four aren't doing anything at all with that woman," Mikey said flatly.

He then received an extremely affronted look from both Pete and Gabe, and even Patrick looked a little irritated at the thought that they weren't allowed to take part in this unnecessary war. Ryan, who was sitting next to Gerard, didn't change his expression much. He had opinions, sure, but most of them centered around self-preservation. Which probably wasn't a bad thing. Frank was upstairs- he'd mumbled something about a bathroom an hour ago and had remained up there. Gerard let him have some space. Seeing Ray's body like that hadn't been much fun for any of them.

Ryan closed the book in his hands and looked at Mikey, one eyebrow raised marginally. While Gerard didn't know how he felt about Ryan Ross, he had to admit the vampire was more logical. "What's your plan?"

"I thought...maybe we could call mom," Mikey said.

"Bad idea," Ryan cut in before Gerard could say anything.

"She knows about vampire things," Mikey answered. "I don't like her bullshit either, but she might know things."

"She doesn't know shit," Pete added in, folding his arms. "And this isn't a vampire thing. It's a crazy ex-girlfriend. Which we all have more experience with than your goddamn _mother_."

Mikey didn't say anything, didn't move an inch, but Pete looked down at the floor and hunched his shoulders like he had. Gerard wondered where his brother had even learned to do that. He certainly couldn't do it. Patrick looked unfazed, maybe a little annoyed. He was the only one that didn't immediately bend to Mikey's will, but he also didn't like arguing at all. Gerard liked them all, which was why he could understand why Mikey didn't want them to be involved. He caught Ryan's sideways look and blinked as Ryan slowly raised one long finger and pointed upstairs.

But what was-

 _Oh_. Right, he was supposed to be mothering his own vampire, not his brother's. He got up off the couch and offered Ryan a weak smile that wasn't returned, and made his way up the stairs quietly. Mikey didn't attempt to follow him and he heard Gabe sigh heavily. Patrick said something in a low, displeased voice and he could hear the irritation in Pete's voice even if the words were inaudible. His feet were quiet on the stairs, soft despite his wearing combat boots.

"Frankie?"

Gerard nudged the door open with his foot and felt his heart drop and thunk at his feet. Frank looked up from the corner of the bathroom he was huddled in, eyes wide and bruised-looking at the edges. He looked too much like an animal in the headlights of a car, trying to stop his sniffles and crowded against the wall like he could phase through it. Unfortunately, that wasn't a power vampires actually possessed, so he remained pressed up against the wall. Gerard took a step into the room and closed the door quietly, wincing as Frank flinched.

"Frankie, what's wrong?"

"I'm a fucking _vampire_ ," Frank said in a distressed voice, cheek flat against the side of the counter. "I'm a fucking vampire and someone just got _murdered_ , oh my god."

"Frankie," Gerard repeated softly. He'd kind of been waiting for Frank to freak out about all of this; he'd been holding out so far but eventually things just sunk in. He took a step closer and was greeted with the smaller person pressing himself against the wall harder. He was shaking like a leaf, Gerard realised as he dropped to his knees next to Frank. His mouth was bleeding again, probably the onset of the fangs again, and when Gerard moved to wipe it off his chin Frank tried to shy away.

"Hey, it's okay, it's gonna be fine," Gerard soothed, instead smoothing a hand down Frank's back.

Frank sucked in a slightly panicked breath and looked up at him, eyes inhuman and _too_ human all at once. He shuddered and Gerard felt something in his chest ache in return, dropped his chin to sit on the mess of Frank's hair. Gerard patted his back, closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of sweat and citrus. Frank sniffled, staying frozen for a second and then he was melting into Gerard's arms, tiny hitching sobs wracking his body. Gerard himself was remembering the days Mikey used to have sudden panic attacks from slipping away from reality, and held Frank tighter.

Frank let out a choked giggle amongst his sobs. "I suck _blood_ now, oh my god."

"Yeah," Gerard answered, feeling the faintest patter of Frank's heart against his chest. Frank made an agonized noise and buried his face in Gerard's neck.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Frank managed to get out, although it was near incoherent.

"You don't have to, I swear," Gerard said fiercely.

"I'm stupid," Frank said after a moment, sobs dying down to slightly laboured breathing. Gerard smiled into his hair.

"You've been dealing with this vampire shit all your life, and here I am, whining like I'm the only one here," Frank continued. "I didn't even know Ray that well."

"That doesn't matter. Sadness isn't a competition," Gerard said soothingly.

"Fucking vampires," Frank answered, muffled.

Gerard patted his hair and dropped a kiss on his head. "You want to stay here with the others?"

"No," Frank replied immediately. "I want to go and kick her ass six feet into the ground."

"Okay," Gerard said, still a bit doubtful but willing to acquiesce.

Frank let out a pained-sounding giggle and wound his hands around Gerard's neck. "But I want a piggyback downstairs, Mister Vampire Way."

Gerard smiled and leaned it to kiss Frank, savouring the way those orange-green eyes darkened, and then there was a bang.

"Fuck _off_ , Mikey," Gerard snapped. Couldn't they catch a break for two fucking seconds?

Frank giggled.

"We're leaving," Mikey said, completely unfazed by the fact he always walked in on them in time to interrupt. Gerard eyed the pitchfork he held loosely in one hand. He'd known Elena kept some stuff from the Wars, but he hadn't realised she had an armoury, he thought as he saw Ryan appear behind Mikey with what appeared to be some sort of staff. "Grab whatever items for stabbing you want from the basement."

"Ooh, weapons! Cool!" And Frank was up and out the door, pattering downstairs. Mikey gave Gerard an amused look, as if to say _that one's your soulmate? I'm not surprised. What a nerd._ Gerard did not return the humouring look, standing up to follow Frank down the stairs to the basement.

###

"Alright, now that all the idiots have filed their death warrants," Mikey said pointedly.

"We're already dead, Mikeyway," Pete  answered with a cheerful swing of the battleaxe that was far too large for his slim frame. Frank kind of wanted to steal it for himself, but the thin, pure white sword he had picked up felt right in his hand, like it was meant to be there. He'd been drawn to it immediately, and didn't know what Mikey and Gerard were communicating with their expressions when he presented it to them. He figured there was some sort of Way family conspiracy to it, just like everything else in this world.

"I got her address," Gabe said, a large bow over one shoulder.

"Alright," Pete said, enthusiastic. "Trick's driving."

Patrick looked unimpressed but took the keys anyway. Frank tried not to look at the nail gun on his belt. Everyone else had weapons, but no, this short, harmless looking blonde guy had a fucking nail gun. Jesus Christ. Patrick got into the van's driver seat, and Pete got in the passenger seat and the rest of them piled up into the back. Frank ended up squished between Mikey and the guy he thought was maybe called Ryan, who was wearing far too much brown. He met Gerard's worried gaze and smiled a little in return, trying to be reassuring.

Because all this was Frank's fault, and he needed to make up for it.

"He never had anyone before you," Ryan said, the words only meant for him to hear.

Frank frowned. "I know I'm his first vampire, but he still has-"

"It's not the same," Ryan interjected. "To them, this is everything."

"Surely it's not-"

Ryan cut him off again. "You're all he has. _Don't_ fuck up."

Frank stayed quiet this time, turned his gaze down to his feet and clenched his fingers tightly on the sword.

###

"Holy fucking shit," Frank said in a shocked whisper as Patrick took out three men in the space of a few seconds. That was absolutely terrifying (and maybe also kind of hot, but Frank could see the light shining in Mikey and Pete's eyes and wouldn't go there, ever.) Patrick just shrugged and nudged the front door to Lindsey Ballato's house open with the tip of a shoe. Gabe stood up from where he'd been hiding first, made his way down the path to stand beside Patrick. Frank went to stand as well but was pushed down immediately by Mikey.

"Something's wrong," Mikey said. "It's too quiet."

 _Of all the biggest movie cliches,_ Frank thought to himself, and then something shot past his face with a barely perceptible whizzing noise and someone was grabbing his hair. He let out a sharp noise of pain without meaning to, kicking back at the kneecaps of whoever had grabbed him. He turned to find the fat man, soaked in his own fetid smell (it was even worse with the vampire senses, his eyes were burning) and let out an honest-to-God feral _snarl_.

"Iero," the fat man said with an ugly snort, lifting his gun and pressing it to Frank's forehead. "You should be dead, you fucker."

"You know me, buddy," Frank replied, clenching his teeth together and levelling the pale sword at the man's throat.

"Frank," Mikey said.

"You know, I knew you'd be a little rat the moment I saw you," the fat man hissed. "Filthy and full of that goddamn attitude, no wonder your parents didn't want you. It wasn't just that you were fucked up in the head, it's-"

"Shut up," Frank gritted out.

"Frank," Mikey said again.

He didn't stop. "What, afraid that your new family will know all those things you've been up to? Haven't told them why Lindsey thought you'd be a good candidate for our little-"

"Shut _up_ ," Frank snarled, pushing the sword through the delicate skin of his throat before he could stop. The fat man didn't get a chance to squeeze the trigger of the gun, and it clattered down to the floor as he let out a gurgling noise that would haunt Frank for the rest of his life and fell down with the sword still impaling him. He stared down and watched him struggle to breathe, felt the desire to sink down to the ground too and just rip his throat out with his teeth.

Oh, it'd be so _good_.

" _Frank_ ," Mikey shouted.

Frank turned around to see Lindsey waving two fingers at him cheerfully from a computer screen that one of the live guards was holding. He felt his lips draw back in what was intended to be a threatening expression, but she just laughed. Mikey was paler than a ghost.

"Hi, Frankie," Lindsey chirped. "Your boyfriend's a real cutie, you know?"

Frank's blood went cold. Gerard had been waiting in the van, right? _Right_?

"Better get down to the warehouse quick, Frankie," Lindsey said before a prong stabbed the screen directly in the center of her face. It went straight through to the guard's chest, and he crumpled to the ground after a few long seconds.

Frank turned to look at Mikey.

"Go," Mikey bit out, looking over at the house, where shouting could be heard.

Frank paused.

"Get the fuck out of here and save my brother, you _dick_ ," Mikey spat at him.

Frank went.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: i love lynz, i am sorry she is horrible in this but it reflects on no way of my opinion of her._

_###_

_Hurt someone. What a joke._

_"Heard you didn't pay up, buddy," Francine said as the young girl flicked on the light switch and gasped when she saw the older girl sitting comfortably in the room. The girl flattened herself against the wall, which wasn't hard because she was absolutely tiny. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, Francine thought. Worse, the fear on her face made her look even younger, wide eyes in a pale face surrounded by unbelievably orange hair. Was it dyed or not, she didn't know. She thought they'd meant an old woman or some sort of superspy when she'd been told about this, not someone that small. Not someone her own size._

_Francine didn't move a muscle, just let her expression turn into something a little blanker, a little less friendly. The girl stared at her dark clothes, the glint of metal in her hand with wide, horrified eyes and took one small, scared step back. She was only wearing battered sneakers so she barely made a sound when she moved, unlike the thunk of Francine's boots. Francine shifted off the counter and slipped to the floor, one hand loose on the carving knife. The girl's eyes darted down to it and back up to Francine's blank eyes with trepidation._

_"Please," she begged, voice high with panic. Francine didn't even blink, just took another step closer. It wasn't like the girl could get away, and she knew it._

_"You're the one that stole that information, right? Hayley? Hayley Williams?"_

_She - Hayley - nodded in assent, and her expression settled into something less frightened, more stupidly courageous. Francine wasn't inpressed by it at all - be a firey redhead all you want, but when there's a person with a knife eho looks like they know how to use it you get the hell out of dodge. Still, she lifted her chin at Francine and fixed her with a flat glare. God, she had to be fifteen, or something at least close to that. Never mind Francine's own age, though._

_Far too young to be stealing records from an overweight drug dealer. Francine slapped a hand on the wall next to her cheek with a startling thwack that made Hayley flinch. Startled eyes met hers and she felt a little admiration for how brave this girl was trying to be, even if it was kind of stupid. Francine's grip tightened on the knife and Hayley's gaze went to it, to the dull shine and the razor sharp edge._

_"You know how this works, right," Francine said in a low voice._

_###_

Gerard blinked his eyes open blearily and saw darkness, which immediately sent a pulse of worry down his spine. Why was everything black? Was it nighttime already? No. Surely not. Something wasn't right. The last thing he remembered was looking out the window to see Patrick dispatch the first guard. Patrick was always surprisingly hardcore when given the chance - kind of like Mikey, which was probably why they got along so well. Gerard was glad he wasn't into that, though, he wouldn't be able to keep up with either of them. Just Frank was absolutely fine with him, thank you very much.

He wriggled a little where he was laying and found he was stuck. Extremely stuck. Something was holding him down, something heavy and warm and...

"Hey there," a voice greeted him teasingly, far too close to his ear and burning hot. There was a loud heartbeat pulsing just above him and it wasn't right, it wasn't right at all and he needed to get _out_ of here. Gerard tried to shift away, but he was just pressed harder into the ground. He heard the squeak of leather and felt fingers slip under his shirt, nails dragging on his stomach. The hard concrete dug into the base of his spine and his shoulder blades painfully. No, no, no.

"Now, now, Gee," Lindsey said, shifting against him in a way that made his entire body lurch unpleasantly. "Do I have to make you stay still?"

Gerard spat in her direction instead of replying and there was a moment of silence, long enough that he knew he'd hit his target even without seeing. At least he'd done something right before he was brutally murdered. He couldn't hear anything but a heartbeat and harsh breathing that wasn't his own, and it felt... _wrong_. The body against his should be more fragile-feeling, cold and with a faint heartbeat and the faint smell of fresh rain. It should be _Frank_ , it should always be Frank and he wasn't just going to lay here and let himself die like this.

"Fuck you," he said, with feeling.

"Alright," Lindsey replied finally, voice filled with fake cheer. "We'll do it the hard way, then. Where did I put those nails?"

###

It was exactly how he remembered it the first time, the second time and the last time. The warehouse still had dark brown bloodstains splattered across the walls, on the floor. Frank could smell it even when his feet had just hit the concrete outside. He smelled fresh blood, too, but it didn't make his stomach lurch so it probably wasn't Gerard's. He'd know if Gerard was hurt. Fuck, they'd left him in the damn van for five minutes and he got fucking kidnapped. Frank tightened his grip on the sword and looked down at it. He could almost swear it was _glowing_ in the faint light.

"Ugh," he said to himself, and looked around in the corridor. Nothing. Just telltale smears of more blood, a box filled with video cassettes and cobwebs. Wherever they were, it clearly wasn't going to be simple to find them. Goddamnit, he just wanted this to stop. He just wanted to get Gerard out of here so they could go back to the apartment and eat shitty takeaway and listen to old music, and Frank could tell him stories about his old life and Gerard could talk about Elena. But no. It was never going to be that simple, was it?

Where the _fuck_ were they?

"Ballato," he called out, feet heavy on the floor as he pushed open yet another door leading to an empty room. Fuck. He really wasn't in the mood to play these games. "I don't want to play with you, just let Gerard go."

The PA crackled and then there was a familiar voice echoing through it. " _Frankie! You've come to play."_

Frank grimaced. "I'm not playing anything with you, you crazy bitch. And stop calling me that."

_"That's no fun. Remember when we met here the first time?"_

"The time you told me to kidnap an entire family because I stole five ounces of weed? Yeah, your buddies murdered me. Thanks a lot."

A loud chuckle. " _No, no, the first time!"_

 _"_ What the fuck are you talking about, you crazy bitch?"

Another laugh, one that sent a chill down Frank's spine. " _What about little Hayley Williams, Frankie? You don't remember her?"_

"Shut up," Frank said.

_"Really? You don't remember that hair? Don't remember the look on her face when you murdered her in cold blood, Iero?"_

"Shut _up_!"

He kicked open a door at the end of the hall with far more force than necessary, and with vampire strength, he snapped the hinges. The door fell to the ground with a heavy thunk and Frank heard a soft laugh that only strengthened the red swimming in his eyes. He barely registered Gerard in the center of the room, eyes closed and breathing nonexistent. Because Lindsey was straddling him, skirt flipped up, and Gerard's pants were unzipped and Lindsey gave him this smug look that had Frank's fangs sliding out with a stream of blood. He spat it on the ground and took a step closer.

"Hey there, Frankie," Lindsey greeted, sounding breathless and he was going to rip out her _throat_.

"Get the fuck off of him. Now."

"Or - _mm_ \- or what? You jealous? I bet you've never had him like this, huh?"

Frank snarled, the sound animalistic and feral, and bared his fangs at her. Even though he was just standing there his mind was already curling around ideas to cause her more pain, the best way to make her scream in a bad way. Gerard made a small noise that sounded frightened in the back of his throat, still unconscious, and Frank looked down to see his hands were _nailed_ to the floor. A slowly growing puddle of blood coated his hands and the floor, and Frank breathed it in. No. That wasn't _hers_ to have. His eyes dragged back up to Lindsey, who let out a laugh and shifted, and then Frank was in motion, dropping the sword and tackling her bodily off of Gerard.

She went down with the loud thunk of her head hitting the floor and Frank snarled again, slapped her so hard there was a crack and her head hit the floor again. Lindsey didn't stay down, though, grabbed a nearby crowbar and slammed it against the side of Frank's head. He listed sideways and she got a hand twisted in his hair, yanked him sideways. His hip hit the floor on a painful angle and he snapped his teeth at her hand as it got close, missed by an inch. She smacked the crowbar down on his ribs and there was a painful crack and Frank was biting back screams, hand clenching around her wrist and snapping bones.

" _Fuck_ ," she spat at him.

Frank got up onto his knees and slammed an elbow into her throat, relishing in the choking sound it brought. Lindsey's leg snapped up and hit him in the thigh uselessly, and he leaned down, ready to sink his fangs into her and-

"I told him about Hayley," she choked out.

Frank paused.

"He can't love a murderer," she whispered. "He's going to regret you for the rest of his life. Should've seen the look on his face. So fuck you, Frank Iero."

"No, fuck _you_ ," Frank answered, barely audible, as he knocked her out.

###

Gerard blinked his eyes open and it was still dark.

"Am I blind?" He croaked out the words, throat twinging painfully.

"No," came the dry reply, and the blindfold was removed. Gerard blinked a few times, trying to focus on the blurry shapes in front of him. Eventually the smears of green and black and other colours resolved into a very pale, bloodstained Frank. Gerard stared at him blearily, trying to get his brain to start working properly. While he was doing that, Frank managed to coax him into a sitting position, and that's when he smelled the blood.

"Frank," he said urgently. "Are you hurt? I smell blood."

Frank stared at him blankly. Then he raised one of Gerard's own hands to show the holes where the nails had been driven through, and the steady trickle of blood. Gerard looked at it blankly for a few moments, trying to remember when exactly this development had occurred. Then he looked back at Frank. Frank, who had apparently killed a girl? Lindsey had...well, she had looked like she was telling the truth. And that made Gerard's heart go cold and hurt.

"Oh," he said.

"Fucking idiot," Frank muttered, leaning over him and letting go of his hand.

Gerard could feel his own fangs digging into his bottom lip and wow, that hadn't happened in a long time. It kind of hurt still. And then Frank was leaning against him, somewhere in between warm and cold and comforting. Then there was a bare slice of neck being presented to him with barely noticeable scars on it, and he breathed in and suddenly there wasn't anything else but the sound of Frank's breathing, faint.

"Are you sure?" He said the words against Frank's neck, muffled them against his skin.

"I figure you've already done it once, so why not," came the reply. "And anyway, it's gonna...make it hurt less, right?"

Gerard didn't tell Frank that he was completely dazed and numb, just dragged his lips up the line of Frank's neck and pressed a kiss to his jaw. Frank seemed to understand the silent thanks and reached up a hand to smooth through Gerard's hair, not saying a word. Gerard hesitated before biting him, closed his eyes again and just let himself float in that bubble of safety. Frank's fingers trailed down the back of his neck softly and Gerard bit down, gentle as he could be while biting someone.

It wasn't sexual this time.

Gerard still had his eyes closed, so when the presence of Frank's mind started becoming more prominent he could see flickers, little snatches of emotions and memories and music. It was odd, but instead of words there were gentle guitar strums, a crash of drums, a low thrum of bass. He nearly laughed, because of _course_ Frank thought in music. There was a gentle chime of windpipes and then a presence beckoning him closer.

 _Look,_ it seemed to say.

Gerard looked.

_"Look," Francine said in a low voice. "They paid me to get rid of you, alright?"_

_Hayley nodded, just barely._

_"I'm going to make it look like I did, but I need you to get out of here, alright? And fast. Go to the station, ask for Bob Bryar, he'll give you some IDs and cash. There's a couple of guys waiting at the next town over - one's called Jeremy - they'll help you out. Got it?"_

_"I- why aren't you killing me?"_

_"I wouldn't kill anyone," Francine said, stepping back. "Not even my worst enemy."_

_Hayley looked at her, tears brimming. "Thank you for this. I'll never forget it."_

_"I'd rather you did," Francine replied. "Now scram."_

"You didn't kill her?"

"Of course not," Frank said, as if it were the most stupid question in the world. "Why would I kill her?"

Gerard looked down at Lindsey's limp body, sprawled out with her wrists and ankles tied together tightly. Her short skirt had been replaced with pants that Gerard suspected Frank had procured, although he wasn't sure why. He hadn't seemed to care about his own modesty much. He looked back up at Frank, who had one hand clasped over his side and was grimacing.

"We'll call the police to come and get her," Gerard decided. "Let's go the fuck home."

"Sounds good to me," Frank agreed.


	9. Chapter 9

"Here, lay down," Gerard said.

"Bossy," Frank commented, but rolled onto the bed and cooperated lazily when Gerard slipped his shirt up to undo the binder and then pulled off his boots. He'd felt his body slowing down the minute Gerard had accepted the idea of carrying him, felt the adrenaline draining from his body until he was struggling to keep his eyes open. Gerard's hands were gentle on his skin as always, and when he moved to leave the room Frank grabbed at him. He missed, nearly falling off the bed in the process, but it at least got Gerard's attention.

"I was just going to get-"

"No," Frank cut him off.

"But it's just going to take a-"

"No," he repeated.

"Fine," Gerard said softly, kicking off his shoes and getting on the bed too. Frank made a faint noise of approval and the look on Gerard's face seemed to say _well, who's the bossy one now?_ Frank shoved his head unceremoniously under Gerard's chin and snuggled in closer. He'd broken his ribs again, he deserved cuddling. Of course, it wasn't like he'd said anything about his busted ribcage, oh no. He figured they'd heal by themselves anyway. Gerard looped and arm around his waist to pull him a little closer. They had a small moment of silence and then Frank had to break it.

"D'you think she'll go to jail?"

"Yeah," Gerard answered, and Frank nodded agreeably before he fell asleep.

###

He woke up to voices.

One was Gerard's voice, but the tone wasn't the voice he used with Frank or Mikey or anyone he'd ever heard before. The second voice was a woman, that much he knew. Her voice was harsh and grating, and something about it sent alarm bells ringing in his head. Frank attempted to roll out of the best but his chest shifted and he let out a low whine as the pain set in. Fuck, why was it always the ribs? He huffed out a pained breath and twisted a little closer to the side of the bed, reaching for the binder on the floor.

He pulled his shirt down his stomach as the words became clearer, easier to hear.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Gerard sounded guarded.

"I've come to welcome you back, dear! How are you?"

There were footsteps in the hallway below and Frank looked around for clean pants that weren't going to be ridiculously large. Welcome him back to the family? But...hadn't he been kicked out? _Our mom's been pressuring him about siring recently,_ Mikey had said when they first met. Frank didn't know anything about weird traditional vampire families but he did know about parental rejection, and he found a cardigan that smelled like Gerard and pulled it on, pushing up the sleeves.

"Mom, I don't-"

"So, where's our new friend? It's about time you introduced us. I bet she's a looker."

Frank hit his head on the side of the doorframe and crashed to the ground. "Fuck."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Gerard was up the stairs, rushing over to pick him up off the floor. Frank swatted his hands away, but Gerard was already locating the swelling on his side and looking at him with huge eyes. It made him feel guilty for not saying anything immediately, which was probably Gerard's intention. Frank looked away at immediately his eyes landed on the woman standing at the top of the staircase, makeup caked onto her face, mouth open.

"Gerard, is this...is this a friend of yours?"

And that was when it clicked. Because if Donna Way thought her son was a girl, the six men she'd sired would be seen as a heterosexual act. But Gerard was cis, and from the look on his mother's face Frank was definitely passing as male today. Frank tried not to look too displeased at her presence. Gerard was still fussing with Frank's side, ignoring his mother completely in favour of figuring out which ribs were broken and something about clean fractures. Frank met her eyes, with those telltale pale irises and Donna saw his own.

"Oh," she said, voice a bit higher than it had been before. "You're one of Michelle's boys, aren't you?"

Frank opened his mouth to say something but couldn't come up with anything to say to this woman that wasn't ridiculously offensive and would likely get Gerard re-banished. He closed his mouth again and Gerard straightened, fixed up the folded edge of Frank's cardigan, and turned to his mother. Frank looked up and there was something dark in his eyes, something protective and dangerous.

"Mom," Gerard said, "This is Frank."

"Hello," his mother said, but this time it was more guarded.

"Hi, Mrs Way. I've heard a lot about you," Frank answered neutrally.

"Gerard, may I speak with you privately for a moment?"

Frank blinked. He was right fucking there, it wasn't like he didn't know the woman wanted to talk shit about him. He let out a slow breath through his nose, shifted a little on his feet. Donna didn't look friendly at all right now, her arms folded and an utterly unbelievable fake smile upon her painted lips. Frank jumped when Gerard slipped an arm over his shoulders, blinked up at him nervously. He was really just going to steamroller through this? It was a very... _Frank_ thing to do, and Frank himself wasn't sure where this bravado had come from.

"I think anything you want to say about the person I'm dating should be said in front of them, hm?"

Gerard's voice was cool as ice and Frank nearly backed away even though he wasn't the person under attack. Mrs Way laughed, high and nervous, and took a step closer to them. Gerard shifted slightly back and Frank realised that he was scared of his mother. Standing up to her was probably a huge thing for him, and it was clearly taking a lot of confidence that seemed to be waning rapidly.

"Now now, Gerard, let's talk about this," Mrs Way said.

"He nearly got murdered today," Frank snapped, and both Ways stopped their staring contesr to gape at him. "He nearly got murdered. His hands were nailed to a fucking floor and all you care about is my _gender_?"

"Frank, I'm sure you're confused right now, but our family follows a special way of-"

"Fuck off, lady." Frank folded his arms, already done with this woman. "You're so full of shit."

" _Excuse_ me?"

He didn't see the slap coming - vampire speed, he supposed - but he blinked and Donna's palm was an inch from his face. Her enraged look wasn't directed at him, however, more at the person holding her wrist and preventing the hit from making contact. He stared with wide eyes as Donna struggled to move her arm and Gerard held it there, face carefully blank. The fact he didn't even seem to be struggling to keep her there was surprising, because Frank had certainly never seen any ridiculous shows of strength from Gerard.

"Let me go, Gerard," Mrs Way said.

"Are you going to touch my vampire without my permission?" _His_ vampire. Yeah, alright.

"He insulted me, and used vulgar language."

"That's no excuse." Gerard let go of her hand and she stepped back like she'd been burned.

"I don't want to be part of your family, mom," Gerard said quietly.

Mrs Way laughed. "We don't want you."

And with that, she was gone, the slam of the front door making Frank flinch. He noticed with shock that Gerard's arm around him was trembling, and looked up at him worriedly. That's when he saw the tears in Gerard's eyes, the way his faint breathing was distressed and erratic. Frank let out an inaudible sigh and curled closer to him, reaching up to cup his cheek in one hand as gently as he could. Gerard made a ridiculous sniffing noise in the back of his throat.

"Hey, it's alright," Frank said easily, drawing him in for a hug, and then Gerard was crying. _There's far too much drama in our lives,_ he thought as he hugged him closer.

"I just - and then _Lindsey_ \- and my _mom_ -"

"Shh," Frank comforted. "Let it out, you big baby."

Gerard hiccuped. "You cry too, asshole."

"Yep. Everyone does."

"S'ppose we have to go show your family what's what next," Gerard mumbled.

Frank laughed. "No, I think we've had enough of this shit for a long time. How about I go find that bag of blood in the fridge and we'll go back to bed and watch Golden Girls?"

Gerard let out a giggle that was half-sob. "I'd- like that."

"Mkay," Frank said easily. "You go get set up, boy I'm apparently dating."

Gerard cringed. "Was that - do you want?"

"The labelling me as just a person was a nice touch," Frank said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Go get your pants off, Way."

Gerard went. Frank could've sworn he was skipping, what the fuck. He was dating a complete weirdo. He let out a chuckle and went to go get the blood.

###

"So...did we ever figure out why Lindsey actually wanted to kidnap us all? Because I'm pretty sure being crazy doesn't warrant entire files on us."

Mikey stared at Gabe.

Patrick stared at Gabe.

Pete stared at Gabe.

Ryan turned a page in his book. "No, we didn't."

" _Fuck_ ," Mikey spat out, standing up hurriedly. Pete pulled a pair of jeans from somewhere under the bed and threw them at his head. Gabe looked around for his longbow. Patrick rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Mikey threw a boot at his face.

"Do you think she was...working with someone?"

Mikey gave Gabe a dry look. "What do you think?"

"I think we probably shouldn't have just given her to the normal fucking police," Pete said.

Mikey clicked his fingers. "Let's get going, assholes."

And they did. After an hour of trying to get Patrick out of bed, which resulted in a black eye for Pete.


End file.
